Titanium
by RiverRunsDeep
Summary: The 69th Hunger Games has arrived. Jamilla Bane is a thirteen year old from District 10 trying to get back to her father, grandmother and brother. Will she ever see District 10 again? More summary inside. Rated Teen.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own on the Hunger Games or any other recognizable person, place or thing.

**Claimer: **I do own my fanfiction plot, original characters or any other unrecognizable person, place or thing.

**WARNING:** Violence, swearing

**Summary: **The 69th Hunger Games has arrived. Jamilla Bane was just a thirteen year old girl trying to survive District 10 with her deranged grandmother, her workaholic father and her protective older brother. She had never meant to be the match that feel into the fire. She never meant to defy the Capitol. She never thought she'd become the first spark of home the Districts had seen in years. All she wanted was to come home.

**"Titanium,"**

**Chapter 1 "The Reaping,"**

_Wade in the water, _

_ Wade in the water children,_

_ Wade in the water,_

_ God's gonna trouble the water,_

_ God's gonna trouble the water._

_ Wade in the water, _

_ Wade in the water children,_

_ Wade in the water,_

_ God's gonna trouble the water,_

_ God's gonna trouble the water._

_ See that band all dressed in red,_

_ He's gonna trouble the water,_

_ Must be the band Moses lead,_

_ He's gonna trouble the water._

_ See that band all dressed in white,_

_ He's gonna trouble the water,_

_ Its leader must be the Israelite, _

_ He's gonna trouble the water._

_ Why don't ya, _

_ Wade in the water,_

_ Wade in the water children,_

_ Wade in the water,_

_ God's gonna trouble the water,_

_ God's gonna trouble the water._

Jamilla woke to her grandmother singing as she did every morning. It was always the same song over and over every morning. She was trying to convey a message but no one understood. They only saw her as a batty grief stricken old woman. Jamilla tried her best to understand her grandmother but couldn't. Her older brother, Dakota, couldn't handle it anymore and moved in with their father, working

The other elders in their block told Jamilla her grandmother had been a very strong woman. Her older sister had been reaped and killed. Shortly after her own mother killed herself. Her father barely even came out of his own drunken reality. Jamilla's grandmother did find love and got married. Jamilla's grandfather had been whipped to death for stealing something he didn't steal. She had been eight months pregnant, the grief sent her into labor. She had raised Jamilla's mother alone. Jamilla's mother got married at sixteen, a very rushed wedding since her mother was pregnant with, Dakota, and was pregnant again at seventeen. Then Jamilla's mother was reaped, seven months pregnant with Jamilla. Jamilla's mother died in Arena but for some reason her mother's killer saved her and later won the Hunger Games saving her life. It was when Jamilla's mother died did Jamilla's grandmother lost her sanity. Shortly after Jamilla's father decided to have Jamilla's grandmother to raise her and her brother. He couldn't bring himself to look at her every day and see Jamilla's mother or watch his son act like their mother. He still was part of his children's life though, or at least tried to be.

"Mornin' nana," greeted Jamilla. She had always called her grandmother 'nana'. It seemed to make her grandmother happy so she kept calling her. She'd do anything to see her grandmother smile.

Her grandmother mumbled in her normal nonsense. She got a plate and put a piece of bread and grits on it and gave it to Jamilla. She poured a small glass of goat milk for Jamilla and placed it on the dusty table. Jamilla ate her food and her milk. "Thank you," stated Jamilla with a smile.

Her grandmother got up and feed the goats the crumbs. She carried back two buckets of water back to the house, for an elderly woman she was very physically strong and healthy. She placed the buckets down at the bating tub. Jamilla got the idea.

When Jamilla got out of the metal tub there was an ivory colored dress laying out. Jamilla ran a hand over the fabric. She put it on. It reached down to her knees. She had never seen this dress before. She had never seen such a beautiful dress. She knew it must have been her mother's. Her grandmother put a golden locket around Jamilla's neck. Jamilla opened up the locket to see one side with a faded photograph of what looked to be her grandmother and grandfather on their wedding day and the other side a `e one that even today was connected to the Hispanic part of the district, that didn't mean much to her. Skin was just skin. How did her grandmother afford this?

The Hispanic section of District 10 was amazing to visit. The Capitol hadn't robbed the people that lived there for their culture, traditions or beliefs. They could just shut up that part of District 10. The citizens from at area gave peacekeepers hell.

District 10 still hung onto some deep traditions. The segregation in District 10 was worse than in any other district. Not even District 1 was as segregated. There was the Hispanics section, Native section, Asian section, Caucasian section and a Black section. There wasn't any hard feelings or harsh words between sections. There just wasn't much intermarriage and blending of the section. But that's starting to change. Everyone was coming together but it was still a work in progress so everything blending together without masking one group's culture.

"My baby girl is all grown up," said a deep male voice. Jamilla turned around to see her father. She ran to him and hugged him. Jamilla's father was a tall man burly man with blond hair and blue eyes. Jamilla looked nothing like him. She had a warm tone to her dark skin making her skin more golden colored. She had warm hazel eyes.

"Did you like my gift?" asked Jamilla's father pointing to the locket. Jamilla wasn't surprised. Her father got paid more than her grandmother. District 10 pays more for people who raise beef cattle. It was more dangerous than the dairy cows, sheep and goats.

"Thank you it's lovely," Jamilla said. She had never worn something so nice. She didn't know being thirteen was such a big deal. It was her third reaping but that's nothing special. The only thing that had really changed for her was her height, gained a bit of weight and had developed a bit of a chest. The last part was a bit annoying of Jamilla. She had never known how annoying it could be to be female, riding horseback in a bra wasn't that comfortable but without was worse.

Jamilla' father didn't say much of anything just smile. She was so beautiful in his eyes. Nearly a mere image of her mother only a bit darker. She was growing up so fast. But he was nervous. He didn't want to lose her. She was his whole universe. She had kept him going all these years. If he ever felt like giving up he came over here and those big knowing hazel eyes would look at him with such admiration. He also was more worried for her now. He didn't want her marrying and having kids young. If she could escape the Hunger Games, she'd have a long life ahead of her. Plenty of time for kids then. He also seen the way some of the boys looked at her. She had no idea that boys were even attracted to her. He cursed the day she started to like boys.

Dakota arrived shortly after. He was dressed in his best shirt and pants. The only time Jamilla ever saw him not in jeans was for the Reaping. Like their father Dakota had blond hair and blue eyes. He wasn't nearly as dark as Jamilla but he still had a darker tone that his father. He reminded her more of the mixed boys that came out of the Hispanic part.

Jamilla's grandmother brushed Jamilla's hair taking it out of its bun. She made Jamilla keep it down. It looked its best when it was down and able to cascade down her back. Jamilla was lucky to have curly black hair that didn't frizz up much. Her brother, Talon, on the other hand

The walk to the District Center was horrible. It was hot and muggy. It was mid-June in District 10, that's how it was during the summer. The beating sun was making it one of those unbearable days to work. It was the hottest summer Panem had ever faced. President Snow had to order shorter work days in order to keep from large amount of people dying. District 10 had the highest death toll this year fallowed by District 11 than District 9 and lastly District 12. District 12 always had a high death toll though.

Jamilla had to part from her brother, her father and grandmother. She could see the fear and anxiety in their eyes. Even in her insanity her grandmother still knew what the reaping was and always cried a little when the District 10 tributes die. Her father wished he could do something to protect her from being reaped but he knew he couldn't.

Jamilla went up to the registration point. The small poke for blood didn't bother her. "Jamilla Bane," confirmed the female peacekeeper. Jamilla nodded, the peacekeeper nodded for her to continue. For some reason the peacekeeper looked almost sad. Jamilla didn't take time to really question it.

So many children waiting their fates. It made Jamilla sick. She hated the Hunger Games. It had taken her mother away from her. She had never even gotten to know her mother. It hadn't been fair. She felt sick over and over again as she watched District 10 tributes die again and again for many years straight now. She hoped that one day soon someone would make it out alive.

It was the same introduction as usual. The propaganda video that no one paid attention to anymore. It rarely ever changed. It needed to be updated. Maybe someday they would. The only thing that was different was that there was a new escort. He was a young man with dyed electric yellow hair, purple suit and a neon green tie. It was too flashy for the citizens of District 10.

"I am Yale Riffen. To begin the 70th Hunger Games let's start with the ladies!" announced the new escort in an excited booming voice. He sounded like one of the late night announcers. They had to try to keep people interested and awake during the late hours.

The young man reached his fair skinned hand into the bowl pulling the piece out and unfolding it with a flourish. People tried not to roll their eyes. He was too young to realize to tone down his Capitol flare.

"Jamilla Bane!" called Yale. Jamilla's heart stopped beating. This had to be a dream. She couldn't be going into the Hunger Games. She didn't wait long to step forward though. She wouldn't act scared though she was trembling inside. She swatted away the peacekeepers, she didn't need to be manhandled to the stage. She wasn't going to run. She wasn't a coward.

She stood up on the stage standing as bravely as she could. Her eyes found her grandmother and father. The emotions she saw scared her more than anything else. She didn't start to tear up until she heard her grandmother wail uncontrollably. Her father's face looked full of rage but yet he tried to comfort her grandmother. Her brother looked like his whole world had collapsed; he looked scared, angry and sad all at once. It was then that she noticed a lot of people were teary eyed. She had never realized how many people she liked her. She made a bold move and took the microphone from Yale. "Everyone quit you're cryin' this ain't a funeral. I ain't dead yet!" exclaimed Jamilla. Some people couldn't help not to crackle a smile. For once District 10 thought they might just have a chance at winning.

Jamilla gave the microphone back to Yale. She stood defiantly. She wasn't going to let this inconvenient twist to her fate get to her. She was no longer scared. She had promised to herself she would come home. She would not let the Capitol take someone else from her grandmother, this time it might just kill her poor soul.

The boy tribute was eleven year old that was nearly crippled. Jamilla knew he wouldn't last long but she'd try to help him if he got past the Cornucopia. She felt like she had to. It was the right thing to do.

Jamilla was walked into one of the waiting rooms. She watched her step so she didn't trip on any lose boards. Justice Hall needed to be fixed up, the Mayor was just too greedy. She knew District 10 must have money coming in but she had never seen where it was going. Most of the government builds were falling apart. Having a greedy mayor meant things he was supposed to maintain were left untended unless the citizens or the Capitol fixed it up.

Her family rushed in. Dakota hugged Jamilla tightly. He didn't let her see his tears. He didn't want to lose his baby sister. She was supposed to grow up, get married and have kids. But he knew chances were none of those would happen now. Her grandmother looked like she had gone more insane in a matter of minutes. She couldn't express herself. Jamilla's father kissed the top of her head. He didn't care if she saw his tears.

"My baby girl," whispered Jamilla's father. His heart was ripping into two. He never wanted to let her go. She was being taken from him. He could only pray that she would be given back to her. Praying to a God that had taken his wife from him.

Jamilla chose to keep her locket as her token. Nothing else would represent her more than her family. She was scared but refused to cry. She didn't want to be seen as weak. She wanted to come out alive. "I'll be okay," she told her family over and over. She was saying it so much she was starting to believe it.

Sitting down with Yale, the boy and the two mentors was awkward as anything Jamilla had ever faced. She quickly learned the boy's name was Rain, he was from another part of the District 10. Given his long raven brown hair and brown eyes, the Native part. It was kind of said how divide District 10 still is but it is getting better. All the parts are starting to mash, uniting as a whole.

"What can you two do?" asked the female victor. She was a petite woman around mid-thirties. She had the fair skin and light brown hair. Her eyes were an icy blue. It was clear her Hunger Games had taken a lot from her. She was a mere shadow of who she once had been.

"Unless you count medicine, nothing," said Rain. It wasn't fair, he was just a little kid. Jamilla wasn't much older but she still felt bad. She could see it in his eyes he knew that he wasn't going to make it out alive. It made Jamilla sick to her stomach. If he died she promised to herself she'd win for him.

"I can swim, use a crossbow, make snares and I'm okay with knives," Jamilla admitted. She wasn't as innocent as her father and brother saw her as. She had taken one of her brother's crossbows one night while staying with her father when her grandmother was ill and took one of the horses and shot coyotes that tried to attack the neighbor's sheep. He gave her wool and a baby lamb for doing it. She was a natural with a crossbow. Everyone in District 10 carried a knife and used it. Rabbits were good food if you can catch them and skin them.

"She's not just okay with knives, she's really good. My grandfather buys her pelts at the Smokehouse. He tells me that it takes years for a hunter to be able to skin the way she does," said River. Why was he helping her? She didn't know anything about him but he knew about her. It made her feel guilty.

"Together you two can make it far," stated the male tribute. He was clearly from the Hispanic part of District 10. He was a medium skin tone naturally a golden tan had dark brown hair and brown eyes. He was in his late twenties. Still rather young.

It wasn't until later did everyone separate. Once Rain had retreated to his room Jamilla fallowed. She listened in on her mentors before going to her own room. She knew that it was a bit weird for her to do that but she wanted to know what they really thought when they weren't around children.

"Blake you don't honestly think the boy's going to make it," sighed the female victor. Jamilla wondered what had made her so cold. She wanted to know but then again she wasn't sure she really wanted to know. Life was extra cruel to some people. It's just how it goes.

"No but he's not dead yet. Let the poor boy have an ounce of hope," stated Blake harshly to the female victor. It was clear to Jamilla they didn't get along very well. Sometimes people from the different sections of District 10 don't mash well together.

"Well, Danka, do you think she'll make it?" asked Blake in the same tone of coldness Danka had used when talking about Rain. It was childish. Jamilla was concerned she would be depending on those two for sponsors.

"She has a better chance than he does. From what I have heard the oldest career is sixteen. It's going to be one of those years. She has a chance at coming back that is if she can look a person in the eye and kill them," said Danka "she has a lot on her favor."

Jamilla packed away. She knew Danka meant the fact the Jamilla had been born in an arena. That her mother made it so far while so far along pregnant. That her mother had died protecting her. That a Career had saved her life. The Capitol already knew her name. She possible even had the upper hand on the Careers this year.

Jamilla to her room. She plopped down on the bed. She forced herself to dress into a white silky nightgown that went down to the middle of her shins. She crawled into the bed clutching the pillows. She finally let the tears fall and sobbed. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to be here. She wished she was home sleeping in her own bed. She rolled around in the bed for a long time before she turned on the TV. She watched as the other Districts got reaped. Danka had been right, the oldest tribute was from District 1 and was only sixteen. It was odd that every tribute was under the age of seventeen. It clearly wasn't done by accident but she didn't realize that yet. She was still very innocent.

She watched a rewind to previous games. Last year a fourteen year old from District 7 had won. Her strategy had been amazing. She watched highlights from last year's games. That was the only hope she had. Hanging on the luck and brains of a Victor that wasn't much different from her.

* * *

Thank you for reading. Please review. I love feedback. Please let me know if I missed any mistakes not in the dialogue, that's meant to be there.


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